


A Predicament Escape

by Whoareyou0000



Category: Now You See Me (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Banter, Daniel Frees Merritt, Flirting, M/M, Magic, Partnership, Pre-Slash, Violence, merritt saves daniel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000
Summary: Merritt McKinney has lived under the stomping heals of his twin brother, Dev, for his entire life. Now, he must enact a plan to protect his own freedom and the life of a talented young magician turned friend and magical partner.
Relationships: J. Daniel Atlas/Merritt McKinney
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	1. The Showman

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Now You See Me or its characters.
> 
> Authors Note: This is going to be a multi-chapter prequel to Now You See Me, both Daniel and Merritt centric in alternation with eventual slash. It’s AU in the sense that Merritt’s brother is not the Chase from NYSM2. For the sake of this plot, I’ve altered the character a bit to make him more of a threatening figure and called him ‘Dev.’ 
> 
> Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing! Hope you all like this one.

Honking horns provide the background music. Rancid exhaust hangs like a burst of dry ice on center stage. The lights of Times Square emit a colorful spotlight upon the well-dressed young magician and his black hatbox marked ‘tips.’ He folds a deck of cards into his palm and flashes a bright showman’s smile at the assistant of the moment. 

“Okay Krista, are you picturing your card?” 

The lovely young raven-haired woman blushes and nods. She speaks with a convincing New Orleans drawl and claps her perfectly manicured hands, adorned with costume jewelry, with manufactured excitement. 

“Yes, I sure am.”

“Okay, excellent. Don’t tell anyone.” The showman flashes a flirty smile and raises one eyebrow. “Even me.” 

She laughs and flips her hair. He paces in a circle through the five by ten-foot performing space, riffling his deck, and drags his eyes around the individuals in the crowd. A few young backpack-wearing travelers look on with wide and shining eyes to his left, some laughing adolescent boys hold up the center, and his right holds black wool trench coats and the brother leather briefcases dangling from tight fingers. 

“Now, I need one more volunteer to complete this trick.”

Several hands reach for the sky. Thirty sets of vaguely interested eyes, mostly enthused tourists and a few New Yorkers waiting for the light to change, look to the floppy-haired magician in the center of the circle for his answer. He pretends to scan the crowd, adjusting the sleeves on his second-hand suit, and zeroes in on his chosen mark. 

“You sir, with the very pretentious hat.” The tall and lean Armani suit turns around, phone still lodged in his ear, and raises his eyebrows in question. “I…I think you have something of Krista’s up your sleeve so if I can just check…” 

The tall man steps back and adjusts his newsboy top. Curly brown hair spills out the sides and his phone drops mid-conversation. Narrow green eyes throw silent accusations and a thin mouth dips down into a palpable scowl. 

“Get the fuck away from me you conniving little shit.” 

The crowd boos. Daniel puts his hands up, quelling his captive audience, and casts a winning smile, eyes shining. 

“Oh, my bad. Boundaries. Well, would you mind just checking for me, then?” He points awkwardly. “Just right there by your expensive watch…yea that’s it.” 

The man shakes his sleeves as if dispelling an annoying insect and a single card flutters out. The wind from a passing cab catches it and sends it straight into the showman’s hand. He holds it up and looks to his beautiful assistant for confirmation.

“Krista, is this your card?” 

She plucks it from his two first fingers and her lips expand into a glorious toothy smile. The joker rises above their heads and stares down upon newsboy hat and his murderous glare. 

“Yes, it’s my card!” 

There is spirited clapping followed by a few generous woos. The magician beams. 

“I am J. Daniel Atlas and that was magic!” 

The magician raises his arms in thanks and sends his deck billowing into the wind, creating a tornado of queens, kings, and jacks against the neon sky. It swirls above the traffic and collides with a billboard to make a fluttering pattern of white and red. 

The crowd’s applause echoes. The tourists cheer and a handful of bills and some change lands in the old hat box. Daniel shakes a few hands, slips Krista her share of the tips, and watches as the group dissipates into the early morning hours, leaving him alone with his meager winnings and the pilfered grand prize resting in his jacket pocket. 

The September chill hits hard without his audience as protection. Daniel pulls his suit jacket closed and smiles to himself, crouching to the ground to pack up his few possessions. It’s been a good night, better than most, and he can afford to sleep in an actual bed and maybe even grab breakfast at a diner in a booth where he can read in comfort and peace. He’s considering the memorized menu carefully when an abrupt yank on his jacket collar pulls him up to a standing position.

He’s dragged over to a darkened corner between two buildings. Half a second later he’s facing the newsboy hat and a fist collides with his left cheek. Pain spreads from his cheek to the rest of his face and his eye feels like it will jump out of his socket in protest. The same fist uses his bent-over surprise to cannonball his stomach and his shaky legs collapse. He hits concrete with a shudder and a foot presses down on his chest, holding him in place. An inhale burns his lungs and his undamaged eye opens to observe his angry curly-haired mark snickering. 

“See, I’d think a real magician would know better than to choose another magician as his mark. Guess you’re just a con artist like all the rest.” 

The sing-song response triggers his defiance. 

“Fuck you.” 

Daniel whispers the words between gasps and angrily swats with his hands. The man gives a squawking laugh. 

“That’s cute. Shut up now and let old Dev have his wallet back.” 

A hand grips Daniel’s hair, lifts, and slams his head against cement. The sky erupts in bright flashing lights. The foot moves, allowing his lungs to empty with a forceful cough and a metallic taste. Then a hand is in his coat, searching his pockets. He paws weakly at the wool sleeves, eyes blurry. An attempt to sit up causes the sky to spin. Persistent waves of dizziness send him back to his prone position. 

He stills, blinking up at the man stealing his food money and the shadow that now hovers just above. There is a hand on Dev’s shoulder and another face next to his ear whispering something Daniel can’t make out over the ringing in his ears. Dev’s smug smirk drops, his lips hanging slightly open, and he slowly stands and moves out of his vision like a robot on a mission. 

Daniel tenses. He needs to move before this shadow comes for him too. He swallows blood and tries again to push up on to his elbows. A gentler hand touches his chest and he’s being guided back down. This time there is a palm behind his head, cushioning his throbbing skull until it meets something softer than concrete. A set of lips serenade his left ear. 

“Down you go to the ground and while you’re down the drowsiness will devour your desire to dart until the doctors decide you are sound of body and heart.” 

The kinder hand brushes the hair from his forehead with an additional assurance.

“You’re safe with me, Daniel.” 

Sleep grows at his edges and slowly takes over his body like a weighed blanket.

The last thing he sees before it all goes dark is a bald man in a fedora speaking into a cell phone. 

The last thing he feels before he sleeps is that warm hand still resting protectively on his chest.


	2. The Mentalist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merritt McKinney has lived under the stomping heals of his twin brother, Dev, for his entire life. Now, he must enact a plan to protect his own freedom and the life of a talented young magician turned friend and magical partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Now You See Me or its characters. 
> 
> Authors Note: I hope to update this series at least once a week and I don't have an idea of the number of chapters just yet. Thanks again for reading, reviewing, and all the Kudos!

The mentalist perches on the edge of the most uncomfortable chair in a sterile white room. He transitions from a slouch to a straight back every few minutes, emitting a ripping creak across the chair’s green vinyl cover. It’s the only sound in an otherwise silent room with the exception of the IV machine’s periodic whooshing. The closed door barely mutes the screams of some incoherent patient. The overhead pager goes off every few minutes, demanding the presence of Dr. Buckner at the nurse’s station and the squeaky wheels of gurneys and wheelchairs hastily slide across the bloodstained tile.

That blood doesn’t belong to the young magician in the bed just a few feet away and, for that, he’s grateful. 

Because Dev is his demon to tame and he failed this time. 

The dramatic role of brother’s keeper has become an impossible burden to bear as of late. It used to be that Dev would only take his anger out on the mentalist- sometimes verbally, but mostly physically. There is nothing he can do to stop this train as it’s been pushing ahead since the day of their shared birth. Dev holds all the cards and the mentalist is a performing monkey just working for a roof and a meal. This could have gone on forever, the monkey too weak to care, if Dev hadn’t begun turning his fists towards the innocent. 

Particularly this one, whom the mentalist has grown especially fond of in an entirely professional sort of way, of course. 

J. Daniel Atlas stirs, earning the mentalist’s immediate attention. It’s small, just the flex of the two first fingers on his right hand. Then the thumb comes in and he’s sliding his fingers over the inside of his now open hand. The movements become almost mechanical in their repetition. This is enough to get the hypnotist off the chair and closer to the bed. He leaves a few feet of distance and studies the movement with intense curiosity. 

It’s the tenth repetition when understanding finally dawns. He chuckles quietly and stuffs his hand into the pocket of his gray tweed jacket. He emerges with a quarter and takes the remaining few steps to the edge of the bed. Cautiously, he places the quarter in the young magician’s flexing palm and it immediately becomes trapped in the taut muscles of his pinky and thumb. The movements stop and the mentalist is so fascinated that it takes him an extra second to feel those intense blue eyes. 

By then the kid has retracted himself into a tight ball on the far side of the bed. He immediately grips his head with two clenched fists. His face twists into an expression of utter agony and he speaks through clenched teeth. 

“Who…who the fuck are you?” 

The mentalist puts his hands up, as if under arrest, and moves a few steps back from the bed. He takes a deep breath and relaxes his face into a calm and friendly expression. 

“My name is Merritt McKinney. I found you and called 911.” He pauses, searching for the best way to confess. “It was my asshole brother who hurt you, but he’s gone now. You’re safe.”

Daniel blinks, his eyes rimmed red with barely concealed pain. He swallows a few times and slowly lowers himself back to a flat position beneath the blanket. The tension in his body and the paranoid stare he casts tell Merritt that this surrender is out of necessity and not choice. 

“Well you can go now. Your dick brother took everything. I’m broke.” He hibernates further into his cocoon. “Oh, and give him this from me.” 

A single middle finger emerges from beneath the thin cotton comforter. 

“Oh, I’ll be sure to pass that along.” Merritt snorts and cocks his head. “I’ll even raise ya one for good measure.” 

Daniel buries his head into the flat hospital pillow and seems content to ignore his visitor for now. Merritt takes this as an opportunity and makes no move to leave just yet. He lingers over by the window, fiddles with the stopwatch in his pocket, and looks on in wait for the kid’s next move. 

“Oh look, you’re still here.” The blanket lump eventually mumbles. “How annoying of you.”

Merritt laughs lightly. His stopwatch is out now and he’s flipping it around in his hand.

“Well, you know I would be on my way except that as soon as I walk out that door, you’re gonna crawl out of that bed and bolt.” He pauses and steps closer to the bed. “Look, you won’t get far with that concussion and you’re not gonna be able to defend yourself on the street tonight with your head spinning.” Daniel sighs. “It is spinning, right?” 

He emerges from the blanket cocoon with abrupt defiance. 

“Well, surprisingly the Society of American Magicians doesn’t have a health plan so…” 

Daniel’s hair stands up in all directions and his eyes shine with the gleam of sickness. It doesn’t take a mentalist to see the pain hovering just below his persistent street kid stubbornness. Merritt suffers a moment of sentimentality. He too has been on the wrong side of angry fists and he recognizes the fortified walls built to keep prying strangers so adamantly out. 

“Yea well…” He approaches the bed with caution and casually leans against the metal railing facing away from the patient. “…that’s where your Uncle Merritt comes in. The doctors here are a little pushy, they want you to stay for a few days. I knew you weren’t gonna have that, fear of hospitals and all, so I volunteered my supervisory services.” 

The mattress shifts behind Merritt and he feels Daniel’s angry glare through the back of his head. 

“You did what? You know what, fuck it. Fuck you and your psychopath brother.” There is a pause and then the bed shifts more dramatically, prompting Merritt to turn around. The kid is on the other side with his bare gangly legs hanging off the bed. He is in the process of pulling the tube from his arms. 

“Hey whoa…slow down.” Merritt circles to the other side and grips Daniel’s wrist gently but firmly to prevent further harm. “I’ve got a hotel room all to myself and I’m offering you a bed and a few good meals free of charge. All you have to do is play along and come with me.”

“Oh, is that all? Because that sounds suspiciously like, uh, like a trap.” Daniel pulls himself free of Merritt’s grasp with a violent tug. The sudden movement causes his face to tighten with pain and he speaks into his palms. “Why would I trust you after your brother tried to kill me?” 

Daniel stills for a moment and Merritt takes a step back. 

“You think you’re the only one Dev has tried to kill? He and I have a real biblical thing going on and, let me tell you, it is not as entertaining as they make it sound in the good book. If I could kill him right back I would but, alas, I cannot. I can banish him, though, temporarily. When he attacked you, I used some persuasive language. Sent him to Greenland in search of the perfect margarita. Now, eventually he will catch on, he always does, but for now you’re safe with me.”

Stubborn skeptical eyes emerge from shaking hands.

“Oh, well that’s encouraging. The ‘bald mentalist has been’ is gonna keep me in his hotel room and protect me from his murderous agent. That’s like the worst trashy romance novel ever.” 

Merritt laughs, shaking his head at this revelation.

“Well ’bald mentalist has been’ is just my stage name, by the way. My friends call me Merritt, but I also answer to ‘sir’ and ‘handsome.’” He grins triumphantly. “However, let me pause our witty banter for a moment to say that you clearly already know of me. Why pretend otherwise?” 

Daniel fingers the quarter that’s been conveniently hiding in his palm and blinks rapidly. 

“Your face is on fucking billboards. Of course I know of you. I also know of David Berkowitz, that doesn't mean I want him in my hospital room.” He sniffs. “Besides, you’ve been to my corner like a dozen times. Orange tweed isn’t exactly subtle.” 

There is a brief lull where their voices fade out and the screaming patient takes over, causing Daniel’s breathing to accelerate. Finally, he speaks again. 

“So, what do you want in return?” 

Merritt takes a seat beside Daniel on the bed and shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“You’re good, Daniel. Really good. I want to talk to you about collaborating on a project. I don’t need a commitment now. I just want to talk and maybe throw some ideas around. Magician to magician?” He chances a glance at the kid. He’s closed his eyes and grown pale. “In the meantime, you can heal and fatten up on my brother’s dime.”

He pulls the shiny leather wallet from his jacket pocket and hands it over to Daniel. The kid takes it with confusion. 

“I…I thought…” He shakes his head in question. “He took it from my jacket.” 

“I took it back while you were both out. Left him the Visa so he can work his way through the Arctic.” Merritt smiles crookedly. “So, do we have a deal?” 

Daniel veers forward and clutches the open wallet in one pale shaky hand. He rubs his swollen and bruised eyes with the other, swallows, and grows increasingly whiter by the second. 

“Fine. Sure, whatever.” There is another rabid scream. Daniel catches Merritt’s eye with barely concealed emotion. “Can you just help me get out of here, please.” 

“You got it.” Merritt moves quickly, standing in front of the kid and gripping him by his outstretched arms. “Doc gave me all the instructions and a bunch of meds for you to take too. Should help with your headache and the…”

Daniel leans forward and gags. Gravity does the rest, coating Merritt’s newly shined dress shoes in fresh warm vomit. 

“…nausea.” He finishes. Daniel sits back, still shaking from his sickness, and raises his eyebrows sheepishly. “Well hey, I’ve always wanted a new pair of Fluevog’s and we’ve got a wallet full of Dev’s credit cards. Once you can walk straight, we’ll go full Pretty Woman.” 

Merritt wraps an arm around Daniel and leads the younger man towards the exit. Daniel leans most of his meager weight on the mentalist and moves his feet like they’re attached to bowling balls. They make it to the parking lot and stop at Merritt’s black town car. The younger man seems to wake up again and speaks with hesitation. 

“Wait…you do know that I’m not a prostitute, right?”

Merritt chuckles and waits for Jason, the suit-clad driver, to open the back door to snark in return.

“Eh, magician, prostitute- they both work on the corners and preform for cash. It’s honest work and I see nothing wrong with either institution. You got nothing to be ashamed of, Daniel.” 

Daniel clings harder to Merritt as the backseat is now open and waiting for his presence. 

“Okay, yea, but…but metaphor aside, I’m definitely not blowing some bald guy for healthcare and fresh sheets.” He swallows. “Even Julia Roberts charged a few thousand and that was for Richard Gere.” 

They lock eyes and Daniel raises his eyebrows with a barely perceptible and yet pained smirk. Merritt senses this sudden turn into friendlier territory and accepts it with a quick hug of the kid’s shoulders and a brand-new nickname. 

“Relax, Danny-boy.” Merritt carefully pats the kid’s chest with his free hand. “I think it’s pretty clear that we’re both the Julia Roberts in this twisted romantic comedy.”

Daniel gives a shaky and reassured smile as he ducks into the car and crawls towards the far window. Merritt climbs in right behind and sticks to his side, giving the sick kid room to recline. He keeps a reassuring hand on the denim-covered leg as Daniel leans against the cold glass and closes his eyes against the now-moving landscape. Merritt takes this break to stare worriedly out at the sunrise over the Hudson. 

He has a week at best before their villainous Richard Gere returns for vengeance and just days to convince this sick and stubborn magician to join in on his plan to rid the world of his evil twin and keep himself out of prison. 

He takes another look at the bruised and yet not broken showman and suddenly he knows that, while it’s a long shot, anything is possible.


	3. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merritt McKinney has lived under the stomping heals of his twin brother, Dev, for his entire life. Now, he must enact a plan to protect his own freedom and the life of a talented young magician turned friend and magical partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or the cast and characters. The Algonquin Hotel is real and located in New York City. 
> 
> Author's Note: Happy holidays! Thanks for the reviews and kudos, as always. This one took me a while to get into for some reason, but I think I finally got it right. I hope you all enjoy!

“People are staring.” 

Daniel feels the judgmental glares of The Algonquin Hotel’s elegantly dressed guests observing their ridiculous attempt to board a golden elevator. Their squinty-eyed contempt mostly amuses him, as living on the street immunizes one to such scorn. It is Merritt’s stiffer posture and back and forth glances that bring Daniel to comment. The man clearly dislikes being the center of attention in a tough room, an interesting trait for a magician. 

“Yea, well, if you weren’t too stubborn to use the hotel wheelchair then I wouldn’t look like a pervert taking advantage of some drunk kid.” 

The doors attempt to close for the fourth time with an angry ding and Daniel finally fumbles past the threshold, still attached to the mentalist. He releases his iron grip on Merritt’s jacket and holds onto a wooden railing instead. Finding his footing, he opens his eyes fully and meets Merritt’s equally concerned and irritable stare. The doors open and close again and suddenly they aren’t alone anymore in this metal box that smells of moldy carpet and floral air freshener. 

Daniel glances briefly at the business suit’s obvious attempt to look away and sees an opportunity. 

“Oh, you mean taking advantage of me sexually, right?” Merritt smiles bitterly and leans from one foot to the other. “You must because why else would we be in such a fancy and yet suitably creepy hotel if you don’t intend to fuck me, brain damage and all? That’s one type of kink, I guess.” He raises his eyebrows in jest. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you like to be referred to as ‘Mistress Merbear.’” 

He side-eyes the older gentleman, who is now the shade of a ripe tomato, and shrugs. 

“Oops.” 

The doors open to the second floor and the rich suit takes off in a huff. Merritt studies Daniel under heavy lids. 

“That’s a clever misdirect, Atlas. Really, I am impressed. I understand that flirting is a valid defense mechanism for you and it’s probably gotten you out of a lot of tough spots, but I’m not a blushing coed and I have no intention of giving into your attempts to fuck me, mug me, and run off. Now you are cute and I’m enjoying this little game we have going here, but you’re not nearly as cute as you think.” He grins and gently slaps Daniel’s shoulder. “So, relax buttercup, stop thinking so much, and maybe don’t get us kicked out of Dev’s expensive and luxurious suite, okay?” 

The elevator’s gears grind. Daniel holds the eye contact and finds his stomach fluttering in an unexpected way. Eventually he gives up his dominance with a drop of his stare and an amused grin. His remaining attitude lasts a whole five seconds until the elevator whooshes upwards again. The sudden weightlessness sends a wave of dizziness and he blinks rapidly to put the room back upright. Merritt’s arm is around his shoulders at once, holding him steady. He doesn’t resist this time because remaining standing seems more important, at least for the moment. 

His eyes clear again once the door to room 1201 swings open.

The suite is everything that Merritt promised. It launches into a vast living space with two sofas facing each other, a patterned fabric chair with armrests carved in the shape of panthers, and a crystal chandelier dangling from the ornately tiled ceiling. Paintings of famous writers cover the antiquated striped wallpaper and maroon curtains give the room a rich feel. The outdated décor is balanced out by the shiny wooden floors and a flat screen TV connected to a DVD player. 

Daniel reluctantly allows Merritt to lead him through a second doorway and into the bedroom. He lowers himself onto the stiff King-sized mattress without a fight and rubs his eyes aggressively, igniting a stream of flashing lights behind his lids and abrupt soreness where the black eye is forming. An image of a fist pops in and out of his memory like a jump scare and he abruptly blinks awake to find himself alone in this big and unfamiliar bedroom. 

The bedroom so recently occupied by that curly-haired asshole. 

His pulse thumps. The enclosed cold room, covered in dark blue paint and frowning portraits of writer’s passed, opens a hole in his gut that sucks all of the oxygen out of the space. Daniel grips the edge of the mattress with shaky fingers and sweaty palms. He recognizes that approaching anxiety attack and implores it to the back of his vertigo-infested brain. Instead he crafts a step-by-step plan to sidestep Merritt, stumble back into that elevator, and get as far away from this place as possible. It could work if only he could stand up without falling over.

“Take these. Doc said they’ll help.” 

The bed dips beside Daniel and Merritt is there with his palm open and a look of confusion turned suspicion. He offers one oblong white pill and a small round brown pill along with a glass of water. A wave of paranoia clouds Daniel’s brain and he would shake it out of his head if it didn’t hurt so damn much to move. Instead, he inhales dry stale air and wordlessly snatches the pills from Merritt’s hand. He moves them around between his nimble fingers, a muscle memory that slowly reorients his shaken mind. He ponders them, this hotel room, and the man in the crooked fedora who is abiding him with quiet consideration.

“You’re not gonna puke again, are ya? If you are you, tell me. I’ll get you to the bathroom.” Merritt speaks carefully. Daniel is silent and then the glass of water is replaced with a blue gel ice pack that hangs from Merritt’s outstretched hand. “Well here. This will help your eye.”

Daniel swallows a bitter taste, palming the pills for now, and scoots abruptly back to the headboard to rest his throbbing buzzing head. He nabs the ice pack and puts it to his face with a shaky fist. His overwhelming anxiety trickles back and the knot in his stomach grows. He focuses on his breathing, doing his best to forget the shape of that fist in the multi-colored light. 

A few quiet minutes pass and then he’s aware that Merritt is unbuttoning his dress shirt from the belt up. 

The anxiety resumes. 

“I thought we weren’t going to fuck.” 

“Oh, we’re not.” Merritt retorts with a calculated humor. Then, he turns serious. “I know who I look like Daniel, and that your anxiety-ridden brain is pulling all the stops to get you as far away from me as possible. So, I’m going to do my best to put you at ease and show you that I’m not my brother and I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Merritt turns to face Daniel and opens a small hole in his shirt to reveal a jagged red scar, about two inches long, spanning the side of his abdomen. Even healed, it looks angry and painful. The wound spans out with serrated edges that create the shape of a wrathful blade. Daniel’s panic slowly dissipates, and his gut tightens with empathy.

“We were about fifteen. Dev was trying to impress a girl with his mediocre card tricks. I could tell that she wasn’t interested at all, which was only going to make my brother angry and put her in a situation that was uncomfortable at best. She didn’t deserve that. My skills were sloppy back then but still present, so I hypnotized her and led her away from Dev. Made sure she never looked his way again. Later that night I woke up to my brother shoving a carving knife in my stomach. It wasn’t deep enough to kill me, of course, just enough to hurt like hell and give me a real clear message on knowing my place as the lesser magician in our dysfunctional relationship.” 

Daniel drags his eyes away from the scar and up to Merritt’s stern and well-controlled face. The older magician breaks the contact almost immediately and begins buttoning himself back up. 

“You are a good magician Danny, one of the best I’ve seen. That makes you a target in my brother’s eyes because you can do what he never could. Now, I consider myself a roadblock between you and Dev, a role I’ve played for a very long time, and I would not have brought you back here if I didn’t know that I could keep you safe, at least temporarily.” 

Daniel fingers the pills again, closing his eyes against a wave of pain. 

“So, tell me your plan, then.” 

His words come out slurred, but he is suddenly too tired to care. Merritt notices, of course, and manages a low and sympathetic chuckle. 

“Oh, I don’t know if your head is in the right place to discuss business right now.” He offers the glass of water again with more insistence. “Take your meds and get some sleep. I’ll wake you up in a few hours, we’ll order some room service, and figure it all out from there.” 

Daniel shakes his aching head, tears putting pressure on his already swollen eyes. 

“No, there’s no time.” His breathing quickens. Merritt scoots closer and puts a hand on his arm, which he abruptly shrugs off. “You said your brother would be back. He knows where to find us and, I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be defenseless when he returns to finish the job.” 

Daniel’s rabid breathing spoils the silence. Then Merritt’s hand is back on his arm with a friendlier tone. The thumb caresses his button-down sleeve, still stained with his own blood, and lands in a soft but protective grip at his wrist. It stays there for a full minute, and Daniel thinks that maybe the mentalist is taking his pulse. He breathes deeply on reflex, willing his speeding heart to slow to a normal and more controlled pace. When it does, Merritt finally speaks again.

“I’ve been on the receiving end of Dev’s fists plenty of times in my life, Danny. I know how they can stay with you. That’s why I’m going to send him to prison where he belongs, where he can’t harm any magician ever again.” He pauses and Daniel looks at the carefully placed hand with tired eyes. “In order to do that, I need to misplace about a million in taxable funds without the government actually being in on this plan. The short of it, is that I’ll have to break into an official government building and forge some documents to make it stick.” 

“If this works…” Daniel finds his breath gradually slowing. “…then how will it put Dev in prison?”

Merritt grins. “Well, that’s the beauty of it. The crime has already been done, fraud. Dev hasn’t paid a cent of taxes on these earnings and the lawyers have all been bribed well enough to keep their mouths shut, at least until he skips town with all of it and drops the blame on me. When that happens, and it will soon, then I’m done for.” 

“So, you have to break into a government building.” 

“Well, Dev knows the guards and we just happen to share a face. I can be convincing enough to get into the room after hours. The part I haven’t figured out just yet is how to move those funds without Dev figuring it out before the big reveal.”

Daniel smiles painfully, suddenly understanding. He closes his eyes and adjusts the ice pack. 

“Sleight of hand.” 

“Right, exactly.” The bed moves and Daniel feels Merritt take up the space beside him against the headboard. “Look, you’re not a prisoner here, Danny. I’d understand if you wanted to get out of town while you can. I didn’t fully consider how all of this would affect you and ultimately this isn’t your responsibility. If anything goes wrong…”

“I’m in.” 

The words come out before he can stop them. Slowly, he opens his good eye and looks left to meet Merritt’s distraught expression across the extravagant bed. The older magician exudes sincerity and maybe regret as well. Oddly, Daniel finds no regret in his sudden choice to help someone who understands helplessness in a way that Daniel thought only he did until now.

“Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.” 

Merritt grows a slow smile. 

“David Copperfield, it’s a great book.” 

“The greatest.” Daniel smiles and lowers the ice pack. “Look, magic is all about calculated deception and so it’s deeper motivation must be pure of heart. Someone like Dev, he’ll ruin magic and everyone who practices it with compassion and greater purpose. This isn’t only about freeing you from his abuse or protecting magicians, it’s about saving magic.” He drops eye contact and blinks away another dizzy spell. “There is no choice here.” 

Merritt lightly taps Daniel’s leg, pulling his attention back to a set of playful gray eyes.

“You don’t have to romance me so hard, Danny-boy. I chose you for a reason.” 

They exchange a warm smile punctuated by car horns from outside and the promise of a partnership molding together, piece by piece. Another dizzy spell prompts Daniel to close his eyes and hold out his hand in invitation. 

“Okay. Drug me. I need the room to stop spinning so that I can think this whole plan through.” 

Merritt hands the water over obediently and Daniel retrieves the pills from within his sleeves. Once they’re chased down, Daniel scoots until he is lying on his side with his legs curled up against his stomach. He faces the far wall and feels the bed shift as Merritt extricates himself. The mentalist is at the bedroom door when Daniel speaks again, his exhausted eyelids creating a rim of darkness around the tiptoeing magician. 

“You’re not leaving the hotel room, right? I mean, just in case I have any questions about the, uh, the plan.”

Deception is a worthless game when talking to a mentalist, but Daniel doesn’t have the energy to fully admit his gripping fear at being alone with his memories.

Merritt ducks his head modestly and turns back, hands in his pant pockets. He doesn’t speak and only returns to the bed. He removes his hat, places it on the bedside table, and takes his own side in calculated and modest movements. They face away from each other and their rhythmic breathing creates a comforting third presence in a once lonely space. Merritt finally breaks the silence one last time. 

“I know I’m downright irresistible, Atlas, but try to keep those wandering hands to yourself, okay?” 

“Irresistible that’s…do you need a dictionary because I don’t know if you understand the definition of…of that term.”

Merritt chuckles. 

“Goodnight, Danny.” 

Daniel smiles, closes his eyes, and lets his newly accepted quest envelop him like a comforting blanket.


	4. Magicians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merritt McKinney has lived under the stomping heals of his twin brother, Dev, for his entire life. Now, he must enact a plan to protect his own freedom and the life of a talented young magician turned friend and magical partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Now You See Me or any of the characters. 
> 
> Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updating. It's been a busy couple of weeks. Enjoy and thanks for the reads, kudos, and comments!

Merritt sits at full alert on the edge of the bed and listens to the water running through the thin locked door separating him from the bathroom and his new, annoying stubborn, literal partner in crime.

They’ve been allies for less than six hours and they’ve already fought about Atlas’ dogged insistence that he can take a shower unassisted, even though he can barely walk a straight line while still under the influence of Dev’s fists. Now Merritt waits with his lockpick kit for the crash of a fainting man to interrupt the soothing sprinkle of water on ceramic tile. 

This is how Merritt lives his life, always waiting for the next crash. 

Instead, the door opens, and Daniel appears with wet hair matted to his forehead. Merritt’s too big t-shirt and pajama pants pool around the showman’s lean body and he grips the door frame with squinted strained eyes. He still slurs his words when he speaks but stands straighter and lighter.

“Uh, are you spying on me? I’m flattered, truly, it’s just, it typically works better with the door open so…” 

Merritt snorts, stands, and meets the magician halfway, supporting his weight until they get back to the bed. They drop to the mattress in a sitting position and Daniel stays put against Merritt’s shoulder until he regains his seated balance. The dull yet soothing scent of hotel bar soap makes their closeness more than bearable and Merritt fights the urge to hold tighter to the young man, who is still flushed and warm from the heated shower. His maturity takes precedence over this growing lust and, instead, he smirks sideways, catches playful blue eyes, and gives the showman the freedom to extricate himself, when ready.

“Well, apparently it’s become my fulltime job to pull you out of your own blood puddle, so, I figure I should get to have a little fun at work too.” Daniel blinks and conceals a frustrated laugh. “What is so amusing about the prospect of your skull shattering?”

“Oh, definitely nothing, it’s just, uh, I’ve never met anybody so intent on taking care of every single person who crosses his path. Your White Knight Syndrome is blatant and strangely comforting, but it also makes me wonder who takes care of you when your asshole brother decides to get punchy.” Daniel winces and raises a questioning eyebrow. “So, how’d I do?” 

Daniel’s penetrating stare strips Merritt of all of his armor, and not in lustful way. Of course, the magician is right, but Merritt has no plans to change his approach now. There are bigger problems waiting just outside of his door and one of them is his punchy asshole of a brother. He files this moment away for later, though, and thinks that maybe he will investigate these feelings further with this young man when their livelihoods aren’t in danger. 

“Not too bad, Danno.” Merritt pats the showman’s thigh twice and stands, his dress shirt now wet and smelling nice from the showman’s hair. He moves to the bedside table without a backwards glance. “You know, another decade of practice and maybe you’ll be good enough to be my assistant. What do you say?” 

This earns a desired scoff from behind. Merritt smiles and retrieves two orange bottles from the bedside table. He shakes out a single pill from each with smooth reflexive movements and grabs a bottle of water from the minifridge. Daniel’s outstretched palm accepts the offering. 

“So, uh, I need to look into Dev's money situation. Do you have a laptop I can use for…for research purposes?”

The water bottle cracks open just as two distinctive knocks sound from the living room area. 

Daniel’s eyes widen. He tenses and cups the pills in a tight palm. It’s the first time he’s dropped his false arrogance since Merritt found him on the ground. The mentalist exhales away his own nerves and squeezes the kid’s shoulder.

“Take it easy, Danny-boy. That’s just our breakfast.” Daniel breathes and his lips relax into a crooked line. Merritt exits the room to the tune of his own growling stomach, calling back one last reassurance to the anxious showman. “Meds, food, and then we get to work.” 

He opens the hallway door to a short blonde-haired man in a black dress shirt and pants who grins comically and pushes a shiny silver cart into the room. 

“Hey, you’re Merritt McKinney, the hypnotist!” 

Merritt grins proudly and puffs out his chest. 

“It’s Mentalist actually, but sure.” He nods to the gold nametag. “Kingsley, is it? You can put the grub right over there, thank you.”

“Yes, sir.” Kingsley lifts several plastic trays onto the center glass table. “Wow, I saw your show in Vegas a few years ago. You made a woman believe that she was Elvis Presley! I almost lost it when she jumped on stage and did that hip shaking thing.” 

The glass surface is now covered in steaming breakfast foods and Merritt’s gut does somersaults at the sight. 

“Well everyone loves a good Elvis impersonation, am I right?” Merritt digs into his pants pocket and finds a crisp tenner. “Here you go.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Kingsley offers a hand that Merritt hesitantly shakes. “If you need anything, and I mean anything, call the desk and ask for me. I am at your service.” 

“Well, that’s encouraging, and I do appreciate the sentiment.” Merritt chuckles and follows him to the door. “I think I’m all set for now, though.” 

The door clicks shut on the enthused young man’s silly grin and a chair creaks on the wooden floor. Merritt about-faces and finds the showman’s teasing smile staring up from his seat at the breakfast table. Merritt’s laptop sits open on the surface and Daniel types as he speaks. 

“I’m sorry I interrupted your little meet cute. You and, Kingsley is it, make an adorable couple, albeit the dramatic age difference and power imbalance. I’m sure that’s not a problem for you, though.”

Merritt snorts and shakes his head. He notices the way Daniel’s muscles work overtime to keep him sitting upright and how he blinks twice as much as normal to focus his hazy eyes. The older magician slowly approaches with a wicked grin and an agenda. 

“Jealous, are we?” Merritt thrusts his hands in his pockets. “You know, I’m not opposed to a throuple situation. Love is a complicated thing, Atlas. Sometimes it takes three.” 

More typing.

“I’m sure you, Kingsley, and your hand will be very happy together.”  


It’s said with Daniel’s patented humor and Merritt laughs lightly.

He stops just behind the seated magician and takes a casual observational stance. Daniel looks years younger in the oversized clothing and wet hair that sticks up at all angles. Without his usual suit and tie, he could be mistaken for a typical college student working on a term paper instead of a street magician fighting for his own life. This moment of innocent makes Merritt’s stomach drop because it’s too easy to imagine Daniel being plucked from this past life by whatever circumstances landed him on the Manhattan streets. He swallows his previous mood and approaches with caution. 

“I see you found my laptop. Nice of you to help yourself to my belongings. How’d you figure that one out?” 

Merritt peers over Daniel’s shoulder at his current fixation. Long shaky fingers type an assortment of banking-related terms into the search bar. The showman’s complexion pales, and he scoots his body to the side in an abject and childish attempt to obstruct Merritt’s view. 

“It’s literally what I do. Everyday.” 

Merritt doesn’t miss the wince that accompanies the smartass retort.

The mentalist takes the chair beside the younger magician and leans back. The showman skims through a document discussing time delays in electronic transfers and postings, rubbing his eyes with frustrated fingers. 

“That so? Pick a few pockets and suddenly you’re an expert on thievery?” Daniel fights to keep his hands steady against the keyboard. “Hey, how about you take a break before you puke all over my computer?” 

Merritt reaches forward and attempts to close the screen. Daniel counters the maneuver with a suspicious glare. They play a quick match of tug of war before Merritt finally raises his hands in defeat. Rabid typing resumes along with Daniel’s complete disregard for Merritt’s suggestion. 

“We’re both going to be thieves very soon. You should be an expert too.” 

“Okay, Bonnie.” Merritt picks up one of the white glass plates and begins stacking it with eggs, sausage, and bacon. He stands and circles the table, taking a small amount from every bowl, before setting it as an offering beside Daniel’s pale form. “But before you pick up your cigar and machine gun you need to eat something.”

Shaky slurred words are spoken into the computer. “I’m fine.”

“You do know that I’m a mentalist, right?” Merritt fills another plate for himself. “You’re pale, shaky, and you’re blinking every three seconds which means that your eyes aren’t focusing right now. Are you still nauseous?” 

“No, the pills work.” Daniel sniffles and rubs his eyes again, wincing when he hits the bruise beneath. “Fuck, this concussion is making me stupid. There’s too much to do and no time for this bullshit.” 

Merritt sits back down and clasps Daniel’s shoulder gently. The young man lets it rest there for one long moment.

“First off, you’re the farthest from stupid I’ve met.” Daniel shrugs off the compliment. “Maybe a little too much of a perfectionist, but we can work on that later. Rest your brain, eat some food, and the answers will come because you already know them, Danny.”

Daniel’s face emerges and his hands drop to his lap. He catches Merritt’s eyes with an honest question. 

“How are you so calm? Dev could send you to prison at literally any second.”

“Oh, I just know my brother.” Merritt leans forward and digs a fork into Daniel’s food. He takes a forkful of eggs and holds them up between them. “He thinks he’s a magician, but in actuality he’s just an old-fashioned con artist. Which means he’s got more blind spots than an MTA bus driven by a near-sighted narcissist. He can’t fathom anyone one-upping him in the grand scheme, me in particular, which is why we have an advantage.” 

Daniel exhales and accepts the pre-offered fork. He takes a careful bite, savoring the food, and gives the tiniest of smiles. Then he takes the entire plate from Merritt, shaking his head, and begins to eat. Merritt breathes a sigh of relief and picks up his own plate. He takes a bite of his potatoes while staring at his confiscated laptop.

“So, take it you found my lockpick?”

“You left it in plain sight.” Daniel rolls his eyes. “You were too worried about me to notice.” 

“That so? Or maybe I just wanted to keep you out of trouble for five minutes.” Merritt holds out his hand with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Daniel produces the leather lockpick pouch and places it into Merritt’s outstretched palm. “Think we can stop playing each other now and work together?” 

Daniel meets his challenge with an eye roll and an agreeable sigh. Color returns to his cheeks and his eyes brighten with a shared mischief. He swallows another mouthful of eggs and speaks with renewed assurance.

“I’m actually relieved. You had me concerned, you know. As a magician, you should know better than to put anything in a safe. It’s the first thing we crack. You may as well just leave your valuables on your doorstep.” 

The room suddenly energizes with a shared idea. Daniel meets Merritt’s eyes with a spark of possibility. The mentalist’s pulse quickens, and he feels the usual doubt that seeps in with any semblance of his own accomplishment. 

“No, it can’t be that easy.” Merritt declares.

“You said it yourself. He thinks he’s a magician, but he’s not. We’re making this harder than it needs to be because we think like magicians, not con artists. Magicians use calculated deception to bolster their audience, to delight. Dev, the con artist, isn’t palming anything because he believes he’s above his audience…the IRS. All we have to do is reinforce that illusion to our audience.” 

“And our audience is Dev.” Merritt finishes. He grips Daniel’s arm as a whoosh of adrenaline overtakes his body. “Holy shit.”

“Exactly.” Daniel repeats, his cheeks flushing. Those blue eyes shine with new purpose and he wears a triumphant grin. The sight makes Merritt’s pulse too palpable between their shared skin. “We can do this, Merritt.” 

The moment ends. Daniel lunges forward and nabs the laptop. He pulls the screen open and begins typing, a confident smile slowly growing. A familiar banking website pops up. 

“Look, he told you that he keeps his money here- Regional Bank- but we know that can’t be where the bulk of his funds are because they’d be taxed. He’s keeping the money somewhere else, maybe in cash. Somewhere where he has easy access, somewhere in plain sight where he can stick it to his audience, you and the IRS, during his own big reveal.” 

Merritt leans back and rubs his mouth with his hands. He considers Daniel’s impressive description and Dev’s lifelong cockiness. An image from his childhood flashes through his mind. Catching his breath, Merritt cackles wildly and seizes Daniel’s shoulders. The showman grips the mentalist’s forearms for support and then they are fully facing each other, foreheads nearly touching. 

“I know where he’s keeping the money.” 

Daniel searches his face with genuine wonder and intrigue, loading Merritt with new-found confidence. 

“Danny, are you ready to plan the greatest show of our lives for an audience of one giant fucking asshole?”


	5. Tourists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merritt McKinney has lived under the stomping heals of his twin brother, Dev, for his entire life. Now, he must enact a plan to protect his own freedom and the life of a talented young magician turned friend and magical partner.

“You sure you’re up for this, Danny? You’re looking a little green.”

Daniel blinks away a wave of dizziness and watches the last of the suit-clad men and women trample the sidewalks with cell phones attached to their ears and brief cases dangling from their manicured fingers. He considers this confidence that only excessive amounts of money can bring from the closed window of the town car. The mentalist taps the showman’s knee lightly from the seat next door to punctuate the question. Daniel drags his attention from the electric street to the well-dressed older man honing the creases of a concerned frown. 

“I’m fine.” He leans his pulsing forehead against the soothing cold glass. “You know there’s something so fulfilling about sticking it to these Wall Street assholes on my corner where I control every aspect of their experience and they…they have no idea. I know exactly what’s going to happen and how they’ll respond and I’m always six steps ahead and prepared for anything. On my corner, I’m in charge. Being here, though, it’s like jumping straight into the wolves’ den.” 

“‘One's going away from a familiar place, would seem to be the signal for a change in it.’”

“Do you always use Dickins as a means to fucking?” Daniel carefully adjusts to face the mentalist’s challenge. “I can’t imagine that works on most people.” 

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Merritt raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Besides, you started it.”

Daniel touches his forehead with a concealed wince. It still holds an echo of ache despite the numerous pills Merritt stuffed down his throat this morning. 

Soft eyes, the color of a clear sky, focus on Daniel with an almost unbearable amount of empathy. The younger magician swallows and turns his gaze back to the grand pillars of Federal Hall with mild disgust. Then a chilled hand is on the back of his neck, providing a natural cool compress that soothes the pain enough for him to let it be, for now. He allows himself to lean into the comforting touch and Merritt scoots a few inches closer to make the reach less awkward. 

“Scariest thing in the world for a control freak, being at the mercy of others who seem, on the surface, to have all the power.” He hears Merritt’s smile in the words. “It’s an illusion, you know. They’re slaves to a currency that you and I wave our middle fingers at and, while they’re bowed down picking up quarters, we’re taking advantage of that very convenient misdirection. It’s a move that the poor and disadvantaged have used for centuries.” 

The tightly corded muscles in Daniel’s neck loosen and provide some relief to his head. He exhales and chances a look up at Merritt, who is smiling in an easy way that causes an annoying and yet welcome flutter in his gut.

“Maybe so, but they’re still poor and disadvantaged at the end of the day when these assholes go home to their million-dollar condos and count their quarters. The whole Robin Hood concept is sexy and yet completely flawed.” They share a agreeable nod before Daniel’s eyes drop to his lap. “Anyway, all magicians are control freaks. We have to be the smartest people in the room to maintain the illusion.”

“Hey, it sure seems to work for you.” Merritt smirks. “No judgement here.” 

Gentle fingers weave calming circles in the curls around Daniel’s neck. His heart races from the contact. He’d never say so, but Merritt has gifted fingers that know exactly what needs soothed. It’s mentalism, of course, empathy at its highest level. Daniel knows this and yet he fights the urge to close his eyes and give into the temptation that’s been hanging heavily in the air since the first night they platonically shared a bed. He won’t, though, because they’ve reached their destination and, for a magician, the show comes before all else. 

The car halts on the side of Wall Street on the edge of the financial district. The hand drops from Daniel’s neck, lingers down his arm, and lands on his sweat pant-clad thigh with a gentle pat.

“Come on. I’ll protect ya from the wolves.” 

Daniel steps out into the overcast night and immediately stuffs his cold hands into the pockets of the black hooded sweatshirt. It hangs loosely on his thin frame and matches the basic black “I Love New York” sweatpants obtained from the hotel’s gift shop. He despises this vulnerable tourist look, but Daniel’s and Merritt’s measurements don’t exactly match up and his meager wardrobe lives all the way in the East Village, too far for someone who can barely make it through a hotel lobby without a guiding hand. 

Merritt is portraying himself for this outing. He wears a long-sleeved gray t-shirt beneath a basic black suit jacket. The fedora adorns his head like a crown, because who would Merritt McKinney be without a hat? Tight black jeans replace his usual three-piece suit, though, making the whole look more casual and believable for a night out in Manhattan. Daniel takes an extra peek at the denim-sculpted rear with a teasing raise of his eyebrows.

“Enjoyin’ the view, Atlas?” 

He simply shrugs. “Just having a little fun while I work.”

Merritt chuckles. “Oh, they’ll be plenty of time for fun later, after we conquer this bull.”

They stand side-by-side upon the cobbled walkway and observe the bronze bull that stares down Manhattan’s financial district. The yellow streetlights cast an ominous glow upon its copper coat. Tourists fill this small stone island during the day, but nighttime is decidedly less interesting on Wall Street and most have made their way to Midtown or Times Square by now. The statue seems to grow in size as they approach and by the time Daniel is close enough to touch its chilled surface it is nearly twice his height. 

“You really think this is the place?” 

Merritt examines the bull, tracing the statue’s smooth hide with searching fingers. 

“Absolutely. He’s always going on about this thing, saying he’s a bull and I’m a bear.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows in question as he rounds the statue’s massive hindquarters. “Is…isn’t that a gay sex thing?”

Merritt peers underneath the bull at a pair of massive golden testicles and laughs.

“I like where your mind’s at, Danny-boy, but no. It’s a Wall Street saying. The bull represents economic gain and the bear is recession.”

“That’s…the most pompous thing I’ve ever heard.” Daniel snorts. He trails Merritt up from the bull’s undercarriage and past its massive shoulders. “I think I hate that fucker even more, now, if that’s possible.”

“Oh, anything is possible if you believe in yourself.” Their eyes meet again from opposite sides of the massive horns. “It’s somewhere around here, I guarantee it. We just have to think like Dev.” 

Daniel allows Merritt to continue the search. Instead, he drags his observant eyes around them and notices that the business suits have finally departed. In their place, a few sightseers mull around, take photos of ordinary buildings, and speak in languages not native to the area. None of them even cast a second glance at he and Merritt. They blend well, something he’s not used to in this particular district. 

A police officer strolls by on their right. Daniel gives an experimental nod and the husky man tips his hat in return before sidling away to repeat the same gesture with a chatting group of Canadians just a few feet away. 

“Hmm. Or like a tourist.” Daniel gestures to the cell phone poking out of Merritt’s jacket pocket. “Hey honey, take my picture rubbing its balls.” 

Merritt’s shoulders shrink with the weight of worry. He drops am arm from the statue and steps towards Daniel with an outstretched cautious hand. 

“You sure you’re okay there, Danny? Maybe we should get you back to the hotel.” 

They’re within a whisper’s distance when Daniel responds. 

“I’m great, just do as I say.” He gives the command under his breath and steps intentionally towards the statue. Then he ducks down between the animal’s back legs and grips the copper testicles with searching hands. A raise of his eyebrows does nothing to clue in a thoroughly confused mentalist. “Come on, everyone does it. It’s practically too obvious.” 

Merritt’s face relaxes in sudden understanding. Then his lips stretch into an excited grin and he pulls out his phone. 

“Well, when you put it that way, I guess I could put my jealousy aside for a little photo shoot, sweetheart. Say furry.” Daniel sends up a middle finger for the first shot. Then they cut to business. The camera flashes again, illuminating the underside of the bull and Daniel’s upturned face. He searches the bronzed genitalia with meticulous fingers, coming up with nothing but a seamless statue. It’s only when he drops one hand to the cobblestoned ground that he feels the one loose brick. 

Merritt looks on, flashing the phone’s camera every few seconds to illuminate the site. Daniel wiggles the stone back and forth, gently displacing some of the surrounding dirt, and studies the laughing police officer in the distance. He raises playful eyes to his partner and smiles.

“Come here, Merbear.” Merritt glares back, only his eyes shine with furtive amusement. “Let’s get a close up together.” 

The mentalist follows his lead and crouches on the ground beneath the upturned tail. He speaks in hushed confidence. 

“You know, I could think of a few clever nicknames for you too.” He shines the phone’s screen at the emerging stone. Daniel works at the crumpled cement with the spare handcuff key he always carries. “Daniel Not-Radcliffe, Danny and the Giant Bullsack…”

Daniel lets out a huff as the brick pops completely out. Merritt moves the beam inside of the small hole to reveal the top of a metal strong box buried beneath. It’s large enough to take up multiple bricks-large enough to host a hefty reward. 

“Holy shit, kid. You found it.” 

Their faces are just an inch from each other now and Merritt’s eyes shine with mischief and something akin to pride. Daniel’s stomach flutters with a combination of this victory and the close proximity of his partner. He involuntarily licks his lips. Every logical bone in his body says that he’s losing control of this flirtation. That soon, he’ll be the one falling victim to the advances of another. He wills his heartbeat to slow just as Merritt’s arm grips him by his hood, pulls him to the side, and turns their bodies towards the shining cell phone screen. Their heads rest together in a traditional selfie pose as two black-booted feet stop at the edge of the statue.

“Do you want me to take a picture for you?”

It’s the cop. Daniel tenses. Merritt curls his long leg in, effectively blocking the loosened brick and holding Daniel within arms-reach. He smiles up at the towering blue uniform. 

“Well thanks, officer. That’d be mighty kind of you.” 

Merritt locks the phone and reopens the camera with a single swipe of his thumb. He then allows the officer to take the evidence into his own palm and turn it on them. Daniel tenses, but Merritt squeezes his shoulder in gentle reassurance. 

“Smile Dandelion, this is for the Christmas card.” 

Daniel holds the pose, wearing a strained close-lipped grin, and then the camera is returned to Merritt’s outstretched hand. He holds the showman almost protectively as he continues the charade for their uniformed audience. 

“Thank you, officer. Mighty kind of you to patrol this area for us tourists. Would you say it’s dangerous around here at night?” 

“Oh no, not at all.” The cop gives a half smile. “We’re just here to protect the statue from vandals in-between the maintenance windows.”

“Right, right. I reckon a statue this nice requires a lot of maintenance, don’t it? Well good on your city for using its funding to protect this exceptional monument to wealth and prosperity. Truly the American way.” 

“Exactly. Goddamn hippies.” The officer steps back, does an ocular search of the area, and then nods in the direction of a group of wanderers poking their fingers at a map. “Well, don’t stick around here too long, huh? I recommend Times Square. Just be careful not to get swindled. Those corner performers are no better than common thieves.” 

Merritt chuckles, sending a side-eye to his younger counterpart. Daniel grips Merritt’s ass tightly from beneath the bull, causing him to squirm and signal an end to the political backtalk. 

“Will do! Thank you, officer.” 

The officer chuckles to himself and utters one last retort. 

“Newlyweds just love to touch those balls.” 

Once a safe distance has been reached, Daniel immediately turns back to the upturned brick and places it carefully back in its space. He pushes the cement pieces back inside and glares at Merritt, who simply chuckles in response.

“Oh what? If we do get busted, it sure as hell is not gonna be by Barney Fife over there.” Merritt helps him up to a standing position and they stare up at the bull with renewed interest. “I guess I’m gonna have to dig us up some construction uniforms, huh?” 

“Just me.” Daniel blinks away another wave of dizziness and meets Merritt’s questioning eyes. “This is my part. You have to be Dev, remember?” 

“How can I forget?” Merritt’s arm finds his shoulders at once, holding him steady. Daniel leans in as they give one last wave to the nice policeman. Merritt drops his fake smile after the officer turns the corner, but not his steady grip on the younger magician. “You know, that man’s limited braincells aside, we do make a pretty convincing husband and husband.” 

Daniel exhales into a guarded smile, not quite ready to let go of Merritt just yet either.

“Wait so, you actually think I would marry somebody who calls me Dandelion? That’s just…I mean if that’s the best you can do then we don’t even stand a chance of getting past the honeymoon, never mind the climbing divorce statistics. Intellectual compatibility is…is paramount to a successful marriage.” 

The mentalist’s body shakes with waves of laughter as he leads them across the empty street and back towards the waiting town car. Daniel rests against the shiny black surface for extra support as Merritt opens the waiting door. Suddenly they’re too close again and those fucking butterflies are taking over his stomach. 

“Hey, you got a pretty head of hair and you're stubborn as all hell. It fits.” Merritt pat’s Daniel’s stomach affectionately. “Now get in Dandelion, I hear there’s thieves out and about.” 

Daniel obeys, for now, and finds he doesn’t completely hate the new pet name, to his own surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or the guys in this story. I also don't own Charles Dickins' David Copperfield, even though they do love to quote from it. 
> 
> Authors Note: Just a quick note to say that this story is not abandoned! It may take me longer than intended, but it will reach its conclusion because all this shameless flirting has to lead to something, right? Thanks for reading!


	6. Underdogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merritt McKinney has lived under the stomping heals of his twin brother, Dev, for his entire life. Now, he must enact a plan to protect his own freedom and the life of a talented young magician turned friend and magical partner.

The text comes in with a sprightly three-toned chime and elicits a pained groan from the man in the bed. 

Merritt stirs and cowers away from the single beam of sunlight seeping through the curtains’ slivered opening. With a heavy sigh he reaches across the quilted floral hotel bedspread and comes back with nothing but a sheet, cool from the lack of body heat. This is enough to get him to raise his head and blink wearily at the empty half of the mattress and the pillow still dented from his bedmate’s head. 

“Danny, save me some hot water, will ya? It’s cold in here.” 

He glances towards the bathroom and notices that the door is open, and the still air lacks the haziness of post-shower steam. There is no comforting scent of hotel soap and the kid’s general presence, a welcome heaviness that has begun to sooth all of Merritt’s pressure points, is missing. A second three-toned chime erupts from the nightstand and Merritt shakes himself awake, leaning towards the table and retrieving the device. Across the screen reads the message he’s been dreading for days.

YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS, LITTLE BROTHER. YOU AND THE THIEF. YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME.

Merritt bolts up in bed, suddenly very aware of the fact that he’s alone in the bedroom. Jumping to his feet, he circles the bed and throws the door open. Then he paces through the living area in search of any indication of Daniel’s presence. The laptop sits open on the table, the screen dark from prolonged disuse. The hooded sweatshirt is gone from the back of the chair and Daniel’s worn black tennis shoes are nowhere on the floor. The only sign that the kid’s ever been here are the two half-empty pill bottles waiting patiently on the kitchenette’s counter. 

Heart racing, Merritt takes three steps back and falls into the creepy panther chair. He rubs sweaty hands across his face and over his head. A knot ties tighter in his gut with each passing tick of his watch. His mind races with possibilities, all of them grim and nausea-inducing. 

What if he’s misjudged Dev’s recovery time? Maybe he’s gotten to Daniel, scared him off, hurt him, or worse. 

Or worse. 

Christ, what has Merritt done bringing an innocent kid into his mess?

A door slams shut. Merritt peers up from between trembling fingers to see the showman striding confidently into the room as if the world hasn’t just crashed at his feet. Daniel’s face is buried in a white paper bag and the words tumble from his lips in, what Merritt has decided, is the most endearing verbal vomit he’s ever heard. 

“Hey, about time you woke up. Kingsley asked about you. He wants to show you a coin trick later. I think he may actually have a crush, it’s disturbing. Anyway, I was thinking about the paper trail on the money and it won’t be difficult to handle. I have a way to get you into the office too…”

Merritt’s up at once and pulling the skinny kid into his arms, earning a surprised huff. He tangles his fingers deeply in wavy hair, forgetting completely about the head injury until Daniel inhales sharply. Wincing at his own negligence, Merritt abruptly moves his hand down to the back of Daniel’s neck instead and exhales a mountain of relief into the firm shoulder. 

Daniel’s questions come one suspicious word at a time. 

“Uh, what…what’s going on?”

“You scared the shit out of me, kid.” Merritt croaks past the dissipating lump in his throat.

Daniel stands stick straight, seemingly unsure of how to respond to this sudden affection. An awkward beat passes and then the younger body droops slightly, relaxing into Merritt’s chest. A cautious hand touches Merritt’s side and delicate fingers grip his brown cotton t-shirt, lightly caressing the skin beneath and causing Merritt’s stomach to flip flop. His breathing slows and the very real weight of the younger magician against him makes everything feel better for a single perfect moment. The paper bag in the kid’s other hand crinkles between their shared body heat, now an afterthought. 

Then Daniel speaks in a cautious whisper.

“I’m okay, Merritt. It’s okay.”

Slowly, the relief passes, and it’s replaced with another emotion. Merritt pulls back, face warm with burgeoning anger, and grips Daniel gently but firmly by the shoulders. 

“Where the hell did you go all by yourself?”

“It’s my turn to get breakfast.” Daniel raises the wrinkled white bag, branded with Ess-a-Bagel, up to Merritt’s face and raises his eyebrows. “Bagels?”

Merritt shakes his head, sniffs back his remaining emotion, and releases Daniel to walk a wide circle around the room. He touches the phone sitting idly in the pocket of his pajama pants and the reality of their situation comes back with a devastating crash. 

“Ever hear of leaving a note? What if you passed out? Got sick? You still have a head injury, remember?”

“Well, technically my head injury could affect my memory so…”

Daniel’s cheeks pinken and he disguises a shadow of a smirk that’s so fucking endearing that Merritt can’t keep his anger about him. The mentalist swallows the tornado of emotions and focuses on the fact that they’re both alive, for the time being. 

Daniel places the bag on the table with his playful grin and drops behind the open laptop. 

“I took my medicine, Merritt. I’m feeling a lot better. Just in time, too. There’s a big event tonight in Times Square. No one of importance will be on Wall Street after dark, even the cops. See?” 

He turns the laptop to face Merritt, who sinks into the neighboring seat and barely glances at the screen. Instead he meets Daniel’s eyes with a new and deeper worry. The kid looks back with a mixture of earnestness and empathy. 

“This is my window and I have to take it.” Merritt manages a nod. “You should go today, too. It can’t be long before he comes back and then…”

“Dev knows.” Merritt raises the phone and show’s Daniel the text. The showman visibly pales. “Look, I just, uh, don’t know if it’s best for us to split up right now. If he finds you stealing his cash and I’m not there to stop him…”

Daniel adamantly shakes his head and takes the laptop back with renewed calm. 

“So, what if he knows? We still have time.” The showman hides his passing fear in the bag of food, meticulously unfolding the top and pulling out a paper-wrapped bagel along with forks and napkins. “We just have to stick to the plan. Besides, we agreed that the risk was worth it.” 

He shoves the bag in Merritt’s direction with a decisive nod and begins picking at a cinnamon raison bagel. Merritt feels his stomach tighten at the very sight of the sweetened bread and the saccharine scent wafting through the air between them.

“Worth your life?” Merritt’s voice cracks. “I’m not so sure if it’s worth that to me anymore, Danny.” 

“It’s my life to risk.” Daniel raises darkening eyes. “Merritt, I’m tired of getting stepped on by assholes like your brother and you should be too. Do you want to go to prison for your brother’s crimes?” 

“Of course not. Look, Danny maybe there’s another way. We can grab the cash and get the fuck out of dodge. Head to Mexico. Hell, I hear the weather’s a hell of a lot better there...and the magic scene in Mexico City...” 

“I can’t believe you want to back out now.” Daniel’s face flushes and tightens. He pushes himself up out of the chair, bagel still in hand, and heads into the kitchenette. “I like you too, Merritt, a real fucking lot, but this isn’t just about us. You can jump on a plane and fly away, but that won’t stop Dev from hurting other people and killing magic. He’s our responsibility, like it or not.”

Merritt stands and follows Daniel to the kitchenette, leaning casually against the door frame to observe the scene. The kid is searching the bottom cupboards for something, his lean body halfway inside and long legs splayed awkwardly across the white tile. 

“We’re just two magicians, Danny. So, maybe we can’t save the world.” 

Daniel’s frantic pawing ceases and he emerges from the laminate cave, half a bagel now secured between his teeth. He palms something in his left hand and removes the pastry with his right. Then he strides back into the living area, glassy eyes trained down at his carefully placed steps. His hair sticks up in various places from his spontaneous treasure hunt. 

“No, but we can save magic.” He swallows and faces Merritt with a look of crippling compassion. “Look, I get it. I can’t even close my eyes without seeing Dev’s fists. Considering what he’s done to you over the years, I don’t blame you for being afraid. But I’ve known you for a week and even I see that your skillset is way beyond what he could even aspire to. You’re more than capable of defeating him, Merritt.” 

The speech catches Merritt off guard. He wavers from foot to foot, hands deep in his pockets, and holds Daniel’s deep blue stare. The bruise beneath his eye stands out in the morning light, stirring Merritt’s protective instincts and reminding him of what started all of this- who gave him the courage to do more than wait patiently for his own inevitable take down. 

The scrappy showman who stood up to an abuser, put him in his place, and paid the cruelest price, only to get back up and try again at the single desperate request from a stranger. 

“Here, you’ll need these.” Daniel holds out the items retrieved from deep within the cabinets. Merritt takes them silently, sliding his fingers over Daniel’s briefly, before they part. 

Dev’s driver’s license, a written list of passwords, and a keycard.

Merritt sighs and shakes his head. Daniel never fails to surprise him. 

“Always got something up your sleeve, huh Danny?” The kid waggles his eyebrows. “Let me guess, you took these from his wallet?”

“They seemed important. Figured I should, uh, stash them somewhere safe…at least until we’re done with them.” Daniel shrugs, a glint of play in his eyes, and finishes his bagel in a few bites. “I would’ve told you, but you are kind of a pushover. If he raised his middle finger to me, you’d probably give it all back as ransom for my honor. No offense.” 

Daniel takes off for the living area, retrieving the carefully stashed duffel bag containing the construction uniform and supplies. Merritt follows him in circles with quiet amusement.

“Oh, offense taken.” Merritt teases, stashing the pilfered items in his pocket. “Hey, you’re getting better with the mentalism. When this is all over, I could give you some lessons. You know, I’ve always wanted to be a mentor. I could even get a respectable suit for the occasion, something in a more subtle tweed maybe.” 

Daniel gives a rare laugh, sending a surge of warmth and confidence through Merritt. He swipes his pill bottles into the duffel bag and slings it over his shoulder, grabbing a plain bagel from the table and heading for the door. 

Merritt tenses, just barely stopping himself from tackling the kid. He understands now, though. There is no stopping J. Daniel Atlas from completing his mission. 

“Mind telling me where you’re going this time?”

Daniel slaps Merritt’s chest on the way out, letting his fingers drag gently and giving him all the reassurance that he needs. 

“I have some prep to do on the bull. Eat something. I’ll meet you at the law office in a few hours. I laid out everything you need in the Word document.” He twirls around one last time. “Oh, and Kingsley will bring your Dev clothes up once they’re dry cleaned. Don’t let him flirt with you for too long. I know your ego thrives on undeserved adoration, but we’re on a schedule here and it’ll only encourage him.” 

Merritt cackles.

“You know you're cute when you’re jealous.” 

The door slams on Daniel’s rolling eyes and Merritt is once again left alone in the hotel room. 

He falls back into the panther chair and exhales. The late morning sun traces a line from the opened bag of bread to the laptop. Daniel’s words circle through his mind, growing his confidence with every revolution. For the first time in his life, Merritt allows himself to fully consider a life outside of Dev’s shadow. It looks brighter, warmer, and maybe even a little less lonely. 

It’s freedom after a lifetime behind bars- bars that he’ll always be locked behind if he doesn’t follow through with this plan and put Dev away for good. 

It’s also achievable because he thinks, no he knows, that he can finally best his evil twin with the help of a spunky showman and, god help them, a little bit of luck.

Merritt pulls the phone from his pocket and opens Dev’s text. With a deep and ragged breath, he types a response. 

I’M NOT HIDING THIS TIME, BIG BROTHER, AND I’M NOT AFRAID OF YOU ANYMORE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Now You See Me, Ess-A-Bagel, or any of the characters in this chapter (other than Kingsley!) 
> 
> Author's Note: Well I meant to move the plot a bit more and then they started flirting again. These guys, I don't know what to do with them. Also I feel like Merritt is a sentimental softy underneath all that teasing so that's how I'm portraying him here. Ah well, next chapter will be action packed, I promise!


	7. Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merritt McKinney has lived under the stomping heals of his twin brother, Dev, for his entire life. Now, he must enact a plan to protect his own freedom and the life of a talented young magician turned friend and magical partner.

DANIEL

Wall Street is decidedly less ominous in the late evening light.

Daniel maintains a casual pose on a park bench surrounding Bowling Green Fountain. One leg resting comfortably over another, he fluffs out a newspaper and traces the scene from beneath its cover. It’s quiet, minus the hum of passing cars and the man across the concrete circle talking aggressively into his cell phone. The chilly fall breeze makes it just uncomfortable enough for the old rich guys to pull their expensive blazers closed and the park is vacant due to the looming threat of rain. This makes perfect camouflage out of his newsboy hat and intimidating black raincoat, both taken from Dev’s closet. 

This hiss of a paint can breaks the peace. It lingers for minutes in the background, unnoticed by most. Daniel disguises his smirk behind the stock market reports and waits for the next cue.

“Hey you! Stop right there.”

“Fuck you, pig!” 

Sneakers hit pavement at a fast pace. Daniel slides a fifty from beneath his sleeve and positions it at the edge of the financial section along with a folded slip of paper. The teenage boy rushes past and swipes both with an arrogant cackle.

“Thanks, man. See ya.” 

Daniel raises his eyebrows as the kid clears the park long before the cop even appears. The uniformed man stumbles around the area, briefly, and then turns to the showman. 

“Sir, did you see which way that kid went?” 

“I’m sorry, officer?” Daniel lowers the paper briefly. “Oh, you…you mean the vandal with the spray paint? Kids these days.” He points. “That way.” 

The cop speaks orders into his radio. “Yea, I’m on his tail. Call maintenance. The bull’s been…uh…compromised.” Then he stumbles off in the opposite direction of his target. 

Daniel shrugs off the coat to reveal navy blue coveralls marked “Roy.” He stands, pulls the duffel bag from beneath the bench, and drapes it casually over his shoulder. Then he rounds the circle towards the subway and deposits the hat, coat, and newspaper in the trash bin. A voice crackles from the radio attached to his belt. 

“Hey Roy, we got a vandal at the bull.”

Daniel tugs it loose and positions it near his lips, putting on his rougher New York City accent.

“Got it, Mitch. Give me an hour. I’ll put a crew together.”

MERRITT

Merritt stares up at the law office from the safety of a bus stop across the street. The hour hand on his watch reaches 7:00 in utter silence, as if it doesn’t understand the importance of this moment. Stomach twisting, he straightens the collar on Dev’s Armani suit jacket and steps awkwardly back and forth in the uncomfortable dress shoes. Twins, and yet Merritt’s feet are one size larger than Dev’s.

He wonders how he never noticed that before. 

Clearing his throat, Merritt steps forward in shoes too small and crosses the street between a cab and a Cadillac Escalade, responding to the angry honks with a casual wave. Once he hits the curb he transforms, shoulders back, face stern, and back straight with hands positioned casually in his pockets like a man who is not to be crossed. A few blinks remove the nervous crinkles from around his eyes as he approaches the dark and deserted law office. The door revolves and he, too, follows its path until he’s inside and face to face with a familiar doorman. 

He freezes, suddenly unsure of how to proceed.

“Mr. McKinney.” Kingsley stands tall with his hands behind his back, looking entirely out of place in this fancy black-tiled lobby beneath the crystal chandelier. “I’m sorry, but Breslin, Eisenberg, and Stone is closed for the evening.” 

Merritt exhales. The kid doesn’t recognize him. 

“Oh, are they now?” He removes the security card from his wallet and weaves it between his fingers like a playing card. “Well, I’m not just any client, Kingsley is it? You should really remember the important faces if you want to keep your job in this fine establishment.” 

Kingsley hesitates, looking around the room and at the security camera in the far corner that Merritt has already identified and purposefully avoided. The color drains from the kid’s face. His shoulders crumble under the weight of the decision and he wrings his hands in the ends of his well-pressed jacket. The mentalist blinks back his mask, hating the look of utter fear on the poor kid’s face. 

This is what Dev does to people. It’s why he must finish this once and for all. 

“Or…I could just call Mr. Presley.” He leans in and gives a ghost of a smirk, pulling a quarter from his pocket and doing a quick thumb palm in the two inches between their hands. “I hear he’s not much for his employees impersonating their loyalty.” 

Kingsley’s eyes follow the coin’s smooth movements through Merritt’s fingers. He grows a careful smile and looks Merritt up and down with new understanding. He chokes back his enthusiasm with a barely concealed grin. 

“Of course.” He coughs back a laugh. “No, I wouldn’t want you to do that, Mr. McKinney. Please, go on up. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.” 

“Thank you.” Merritt nods decisively, his Dev mask back in place, and heads towards the elevator. 

The coin finds its way into Kingsley’s palm, of course.

DANIEL

“Okay, does everyone understand the plan? This is your last chance for questions.”

They gather at the corner of Front and Wall Street, just outside of the Ferry yard. Four teenage boys, donning glow-in-the-dark construction vests and navy-blue coveralls over their dirty street clothes, huddle around Daniel like disciples awaiting the last supper. The tallest, a boy not much older than sixteen, holds out his hand with confidence. His mop of brown hair nearly covers his piercing brown eyes. 

“We pretend to work for you and then we get to tag Wall Street. When do we get paid?”

Daniel raises his eyebrows, smirks, and pulls out Dev’s wallet, distributing an additional fifty to every outstretched palm. Then he weaves his own gangly arms into a vest and swings the duffel bag of tools over his shoulder.

“Remember the signals. Stay close and play lookout until I’m finished. Then the block is yours.” He finds the tallest kid’s shoulder and slaps it lightly. “Fucking take it back.” 

The kids smile in unison, hiding their spray paint within their coveralls.

MERRITT

The office is dark and quiet when Merritt slips in and closes the door behind. He hits the light switch, triggering a train of fluorescence above his head and illuminating a clean desk, a PC with a bouncy ball screen saver, and a row of three-drawer-tall filing cabinets. He sighs, reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, and retrieves the list of passwords. He opens the small paper with a sigh and chuckles.

“Oh, you are making this too easy, big bro.” 

He plants himself in the revolving office chair, cracks his back, and touches the space bar to trigger the home screen. A general sign-in prompt comes up and he types the first password on the list, a combination of the partners’ last names and their date of incorporation. This gets him into the mainframe, where he clicks through the files and scrolls down until he reaches the one marked “McKinney.” Two clicks trigger a prompt for another password. Merritt grins, types in the next password on the list…

hocus pocus lemme strokus 

…and is faced with a big red stop sign and a glaring ding from the speakers. 

“Well fuck, just had to jinx myself.” With a sigh, he leans back and stares at the ceiling. “Okay, Dev wants to protect the most important thing in the world and fuck me over in the process. How does he do it?”

He closes his eyes briefly and hears that voice he knows so well. It speaks through a memory so real that he clenches his stomach in preparation for the launching right hook. The words are the ones Dev spoke nearly every day for most of their life. They always preempted the bruises. Always drew blood. 

Put ‘em up, Merely 

He bolts up in the chair, expecting Dev to be there with a raised fist. Instead, he is alone and the cursor blinks in anticipation.

DANIEL

They reach the bull a few hours after sunset.

The streets are empty save for a few Wall Street stragglers who pay no attention to the five maintenance workers. As Daniel expected, the vests hide them in plain sight. The boys behind him snicker to themselves, the spray cans rattling like warning bells within their coveralls. 

Dropping the heavy duffel to the cement, he slides the zipper open and pulls out the stiff scraper, crowbar, and the portable air compressor. The tools shine beneath the orange streetlamps, pushing a beam of light straight into the bull’s gaping mouth and illuminating the graffiti put there earlier by the chuckling kid to Daniel’s left. 

It’s a smiling stick figure aiming its dick into the bull’s mouth. Two words surround the shocking image.

FUCK CAPITOLISM. 

“Nicely done, Buck. Next time, more dicks.”

“That include you?” The kid retorts with a familiar rebellious twinkle.

“Oh no, see I’m not a dick. Arrogant, smug, conceited-most definitely.” Daniel smirks. “That’s the first lesson you have to learn if you want to be a magician, kid. Embrace your superiority.” 

Daniel drops to his knees beneath the bull’s junk and drags the air compressor over. The boys scatter around the statue, keeping watch at all corners as the machine hums awake. Daniel positions himself over the loose brick and begins chipping away at the surrounding sand, inserting the compressor hose to clear the separating particles. They come loose easily enough. Fifteen minutes pass and five bricks are removed. The strong box is obvious beneath. 

Then one of the boys drops his ring finger and shines the thumb light beneath the bull.

The signal that they have company.

MERRITT

The computer dings pleasantly, accepting the offered password, and opens the file. Merritt scans through pages of forms, all of them putting the fraudulent accounts in his own name. A sigh escapes his lips as he reads through them one by one, noting his signature in his brother’s harsh handwriting and the dates on each.

It’s years of blackmail on a single screen. It’s the bars of a cage created by his own twin to keep him in check. To prevent him from realizing the thing that’s finally become clear. 

Merritt doesn’t need Dev. Rather, Dev needs Merritt. 

A liberating punch to the delete button brings a satisfaction deep within his gut. 

Well, almost.

He approaches the filing cabinets with his lock pick kit and quiet hesitation. He recalls Daniel’s one-on-one tutorials, their time split between practicing and lighthearted teasing, and decides that he can indeed make this happen. It takes only a few swipes of the pick to hear that satisfying clack and the drawer marked “M” slides open easily. He picks through until he finds he and Dev’s shared name and pulls out the original documents, setting them beside the pre-filled replacement’s he’s brought along. It takes only the insertion of a more recent date and the punch of the imitation notary stamp to complete the task. 

Merritt tears those original documents to shreds with a growing smile and then stuffs them into his briefcase for safe keeping. 

Finally, he is free.

DANIEL

Daniel shuts down the air compressor and works the scraper against the remaining grain, using his body to shield the box beneath. His ears train on Buck’s rugged voice, working the cop like a professional.

“Beautiful night for repairs, huh officer?”

“Ain’t you a little young to be working maintenance?” 

“I get that all the time, sir. I’m twenty-one. Got a kid. Just trying to pay my bills, ya know?” 

Two black boots circle the bull, fingers strung on the gun belt. The taser sits comfortably in a dusty leather holster, a clear virgin to violence. This raises Daniel’s heartrate, but he holds his position because a showman never gives his audience a reason to be suspicious. 

“Hey there officer, this is my crew. You need me to come up?”

The wiry man ducks, hands posted on his chicken thighs, and observes Daniel from beneath the bull’s balls. His stomach does that twisty thing that happens when his plan is threatened. He ignores it, for now. 

“What’s going on down there? I thought the kids only drew on the top.” 

“Oh, they did.” Daniel confirms. “These bricks have been coming loose for a while. Headquarters figured two birds one stone, ya know? Of course, no one asked me if I wanted to be out here all night. So much for dinner with the wife.” 

The cop maintains the awkward crouch for a few tense moments. The knot in Daniel’s stomach grows and his hands shake, briefly, before he takes back control. Then the cop gives a heavy sigh and straightens up. His pancake hand pats the bull’s loin, sending a hollow ring straight down to Daniel.

“Bastards.” The cop about-faces, his boots echoing heavily on the pavement. An ambulance sounds somewhere in the distance. “Well, I’ll be in the neighborhood in case you need anything.” 

Daniel’s stomach untwists just slightly. He exhales and nods into the brick. 

“Appreciate it, officer. You have a good evening now.” 

The thumb light reappears, the pointer finger now down, indicating that the cop has retreated. Daniel flips the switch on the air compressor and blows the remaining sand apart with a few quick spurts. Then he quiets the machine and scoots out from beneath. Steady hands grip the box by its metal handle, arms tense and ready. 

The first tug strains his shoulders and upper back. He releases his hold, shakes his out his hands, and tries again. This time the box lifts with a fight against the bricks’ jagged edge. A third tug releases it completely. The 18x20 inch strong box lands in Daniel’s lap, dirty and dented, and the knot in his stomach tightens again. 

Now comes the part he’s been dreading all day.

MERRITT

The elevator doors pop open at the end of the lobby. Merritt travels the floral carpet, briefcase glued to his side, and catches Kingsley’s eyes behind the counter. The young man twirls the quarter in his fingers, dropping it loudly against the marble at the mentalist’s appearance.

“Oh, uh, sorry Mr. Mer…I mean McKinney.” He raises his eyebrows. “Is there anything else I can help you with tonight?” 

Merritt reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a hundy from Dev’s collection along with his business card. 

“Some shit is about to go down, Kingsley. If my brother shows up, you just do as he says. No need to put yourself at risk on my account.” He places the items upon the counter with a muted nod. “Once this all passes, call me. I’ll have a job waiting for you. One well-paying nine to five job with benefits. You earned it.” 

Kingsley practically lights up, his cheeks a rosy red. Merritt lightly slaps the young man’s shoulder, sharing a brief and understanding smile, before heading for the door.

The next phase of the plan is starting soon, and he has a wild card to throw in.

DANIEL

Daniel replays the plan obsessively in his head.

The box has been secured- the money transferred to the duffel bag. The boys have been dispatched to their designated locations throughout Wall Street, their spray paint armed and ready. The stooge is in place. There is just one circumstance not yet come to pass and it is finally confirmed when Buck throws the final signal, the thumb light on his middle finger. 

It’s appropriate because now Daniel’s fucked in a completely planned and yet uttering terrifying way. 

Alone again, the showman rounds a dark corner, huddles beneath a pillared overhang, and listens carefully for the tap of dress shoes against pavement. They’re faint, but steadily on his tail. His heart races, fists flash before his eyes, and he struggles to keep his breath trained and regular. 

He can do this, he tells himself. He must. For Merritt. 

Daniel grips the duffel bag tightly with two hands and waits for the right moment. The steps are louder now, closer. He mentally repeats the plan in aching detail to calm his firing nerves. 

Hide the cash.

Lure Dev out into the open. 

Piss him off just enough.

Then, fingers grip his arm. He yelps. A hand finds his mouth, dulling the noise, and pushing him softly up against the nearest building in the darkest corner of the overhang. One thought sends rapid fire adrenaline through Daniel’s body. 

This is not the plan. 

He pushes back, biting at the skin, clawing at the arms, and nearly crumbles to the ground in an effort to escape. The hold is strong, steady, and confident. If it happens like this, then he will have failed. 

Then, a familiar voice paralyzes Daniel’s muscles.

“Ow, shit. Danny, it’s me. It’s Merritt.” 

He searches the darkness, finally finding Merritt’s trademark fedora and kind gray eyes. Slowly, Daniel’s muscles relax. He exhales his fear and wills his heartbeat to slow. Merritt gives a decisive nod and the hand drops.

“Damn you got sharp teeth, kid.” Merritt shaking the appendage. “Did you get the cash?” 

Daniel pulls away, a new frustration warming his whole body against the evening chill. He paces between two pillars, his breath coming in pants, and runs a hand through his now-tangled hair.

“Of course, I did. Everything’s going perfectly to plan, except for you.” He stares the older man down with a mixture of anger and fear and speaks in a piercing whisper. “What the fuck are you doing here? We’re supposed to meet at the hotel. You’re going to fuck this all up, Merritt.” 

Merritt stands completely relaxed and grins as if he finds this whole scene incredibly adorable. As if he isn’t imploding their entire plan with his presence here and putting his life in danger in the process. He exudes confidence and surety, despite it all. It makes Daniel flush with anger. 

And maybe something else. 

“No, kid, I’m just finally making it right.” Then he strides forward and grabs Daniel’s duffel bag from where it landed on the ground. Unzipping it, he pulls stacks of cash from inside. 

Now in complete panic-mode, Daniel intervenes. “We don’t have time for your bullshit.” 

He pushes money back into the bag as Merritt is pulling it out. Their hands and arms collide during this tedious process, which inevitably ends in the two magicians playing tug of war with a couple stacks of hundreds and Daniel’s coveralls somehow getting unzipped. Then he is again up against a wall and Merritt is stuffing stacks down his coveralls by threes. 

Adamant gray eyes meet Daniel’s, pinning him in place with their sheer fucking strength. It’s different from Dev’s strength. It’s gentle, maybe even loving. A warm hand cups his cheek, running a gentle thumb over his flushing skin. 

“This is your share, Danny. You take it now and you run. Go somewhere far away, Chicago or LA, where you can’t be implicated in my mess. Where you can still practice magic. You need to stay away until this all blows over. Until he’s locked up for good.” 

It takes a moment of silence for Daniel to understand this change of plans. His stomach twists with a new emotion, a mutated mixture of sadness and heartbreak and aggravation. The showman swallows a lump in his throat and struggles against the hand that’s now pushing with just enough protective force against his chest. He pulls at the wrist and arm, working to free himself. 

Aggravation wins out this round. Daniel spits out the first words that come into his mind.

“No, fuck no. He’ll kill you.” 

“Well that’s the plan, isn’t it?” 

“It’s supposed to be me.” 

“Not this time.” Merritt’s fingers caress Daniel’s chest through the fabric. “God damn kid, when I took you in, I didn’t expect to fall so fast and so hard. Working with you, learning about you, and taking care of you has made me a better magician and a better man. Thank you for sticking with me, but I owe you way more than what I can give you right now.” Daniel blinks away wetness, defeated, and rests his hand on Merritt’s, their fingers entwining over his heartbeat. “You got a real shot, kid. A future. I just hope I’m around to see that show.” 

A gravelly voice echoes from the direction of the bull. It expels one single name.

“Merritt!” 

Daniel shivers and looks to the left, towards their nemesis. Then Merritt’s lips are on his, pressing and probing with gentle and yet desperate movements. He returns the kiss, opening his mouth and letting their tongues dance. Warmth spreads through his body like lightening reaching all the way to the tips of his toes. Hands touch arms and chests and faces. It’s electric, like a circuit finally reaching completion. 

Then, the lips are gone. The hands are roughly pulling Daniel forward and shoving him down a dark adjoining street. 

“Go Daniel, get the fuck out of here now.” 

He spins, still catching his breath from that kiss, and reorients himself to find only an empty archway.

The duffel bag is gone along with the one person he’s grown to respect…and maybe even love.

For the first time in his life, Daniel takes an order.

MERRITT

In all of those wild west movies, the hero and villain meet at the center of some abandoned road, their hands reaching for their guns. There are rules, ensuring no unfair advantages and, in the end, the best man always wins.

Merritt pictures himself a kind of Manhattan cowboy in Dev’s wrinkled suit and a nicely fitted fedora as he marches out into the middle of Wall Street, past a couple zooming taxis, and onto the second sidewalk that houses the charging bull. The wind has picked up, winter just around the corner, and the empty strong box sits beneath the bull’s massive cock and balls.

Merritt cannot help but snigger at that last thought. Hero or not, he’s still Merritt.

The whole scene is almost poetic, if not for the villain’s clear sociopathic tendencies and the fact that one of them will be in jail come morning. 

God, he hopes it’s the other guy. 

Dev’s suit, the one not muddied by Merritt, is flawless. He swipes at the lapel, ensuring this fact, and meets Merritt’s accusing eyes with a hint of humor. They wear the same face, but Dev’s smiles are darker, colder, and with a hint of strange that gets just beneath Merritt’s skin. It’s always been this way. He’s always backed down, let the villain win every time out of his own self-preservation and fear.

Never again. 

“Howdy, bro. How was Greenland? I hear they make a mean strawberry margarita. Got a real arctic punch to it.”

Dev stands tall, hands resting easily in his pockets. He looks down on Merritt through slit eyes, feigning a height difference that Merritt now sees is merely an illusion. This gives him a tickle and he chuckles. Dev’s face hardens with irritation, an act that would have made Merritt cower only a week ago. 

Now, he can’t stop himself from laughing.

“You hypnotized me. You took my money.” 

It’s not a question. Merritt shrugs and walks two paces in the direction of the bull, placing his hand on its upturned snout. His eyes wander to the dick drawn at the side of its mouth. Merritt shakes his head, suppressing a wide knowing grin.

“Yea, well, you almost killed my partner.” Merritt traces the shaft down the bull’s side to the happy stickman. “You’ve been hurting me since we could make fists. You tried to send me to prison. If anything, I’d say you owe me, big brother.” 

Dev steps forward, the first pace of the allotted count until they meet and fire. Merritt leaves the bull and takes his own step forward, placing them just about five paces apart. 

“I should have sent you away a long time ago, Merely. Keeping you around for the ride, that was charity because we shared a womb.” He takes another step. “I’m not feeling charitable anymore. It’s my show now.” One more step. “Where’s my money?”

Hands become fists. Merritt steps forward, putting him within firing range. There is movement across the street and to the right. A hissing sound. The wind brings the caustic scent of fresh paint.

“You want your money? Then let’s play, shall we?” Merritt takes one more step, hands in his pockets. “One last round in the chamber. You read me. I read you. I’ll even let ya go first.” 

Dev scoffs. Slowly, his fists release. His lips squirm into a disturbing smile. Merritt tracks another hiss to their left, closer this time. 

“Easy enough.” Their eyes connect, the same eyes and yet they couldn’t be more different. “The thief.” Merritt darkens his expression, dropping his smile into a near-snarl. “You gave him my money, but he won’t get far.” Merritt tenses his jaw. “You care too much for that little fucker. That always was your downfall, Merritt, getting too attached. He has my money, I’d bet on that, but you kept him close. In fact, he’s on his way to the hotel right now.”

Merritt sniffs and breaks their eye contact, rubbing the brim of his nose and observing the navy blue-clad figure observing them from across the street. He channels a calm, vicious, whisper. 

“I swear, Dev. If you lay a fucking hand on him, then I will show the entire world that you don’t have what it takes to be a magician. That you’re a no talent, never-was who beats down the real thing because he can’t cut it.” He smiles, eye shining in a blatant dare. “Imagine that big reveal.” 

Dev takes another step, fists clenched again. His shoulders set and his feet part in the way they always do right before… 

The punch hits Merritt square in the jaw. He falls back against the bull and then tumbles down to the brick. There is a hiss somewhere to his right. Multiple sets of sneakers run. Dev’s voice echoes through the park.

“You’ll never get that far.” Sausage fingers wrap around Merritt’s neck and squeeze. Dev’s lips curl into a snarl. His eyes flare with anger. “I’ll kill you first, little brother. Right here, in my favorite spot in the city. Hell, they won’t even find you until morning.” 

Merritt’s ears ring. Sounds come in and out. Every gasp ignites a fire in his lungs. Dev’s dead weight prevents his legs from moving. His fingernails dig into the brick beneath, clawing at the loose sand. An attempt to speak brings only a pathetic squeak. Everything fades to white. 

Then, the buzz of electricity. 

The hands leave his throat. Merritt curls onto his side and gasps, pulling fragments of air through his narrowed trachea. He does it again. Then a ragged cough paralyzes his next inhale. Hands are on him now, pulling him onto his back and triaging everything. His eyes clear to reveal a man in a police uniform speaking firmly into a radio.

“I need backup at Bowling Green Park. Attempted murder. I’ve disabled the suspect and have him in custody.” Concerned green eyes notice Merritt’s renewed consciousness. “Sir, sir hang in there. We’ve got an ambulance coming.” 

From the corner of Merritt’s eyes, he catches four sets of navy blue coveralls retreating into the night. 

As the gurney takes Merritt down the street, he rolls past rows upon rows of dicks on every building and surface. It’s the last thing he sees before his eyes flutter closed and his last thought is of the young showman and his assistants. 

If he could laugh, he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Well, they did the thing! There will be one more chapter after this, an epilogue of sorts. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think!


	8. Horsemen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merritt McKinney has lived under the stomping heals of his twin brother, Dev, for his entire life. Now, he must enact a plan to protect his own freedom and the life of a talented young magician turned friend and magical partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or any of the characters in this chapter.
> 
> Author's Note: We've come full circle! Some of this chapter is tweaked to fit the rest of my story, of course, but you'll recognize parts from the beginning of NYSM. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think!

Daniel stares up at the decrepit apartment building. It’s certainly not the tallest building in Manhattan, even in China Town, and those crumbling stone walls give the impression of a complete shithole. It’s hard to believe that this decaying tower represents the career opportunity that he’s been waiting for since he first learned to disappear a card in his palm at five-years-old.

Now he holds a new card up his sleeve. This one says “Lovers.” 

He shifts the messenger bag, releasing the deepening dent in his shoulder, and takes a step off the curb. A familiar voice leaves his foot annoyingly mid-step. 

“This is early for you, Danny.” A bubbly red head takes her place beside him, a coffee cup wrapped in her freshly manicured nails. “Don’t tell me you suddenly believe that a card can predict your future.” 

He faces his former assistant turned friend. Her smug smile and bright eyes shine in the mid-day light.

“Oh, you mean this card?” He shows her the lovers and teases a frown. “I assume you got one too, which makes me question the legitimacy of this invitation. Hey, why don’t you let me go in first? If it’s not a setup to steal our kidneys, I’ll text you. Promise.”

“Oh, Danny. I know you’re gay, but you don’t have to be so afraid of powerful women.” Henley laughs and steps ahead, her heels clacking. Daniel follows her into the building with an eyeroll and a sigh. They tackle the stairs in a calm and yet determined race. “By the way, I’m never setting you up again. I try to do something nice for you, to help you get out of this dating rut, and you call my friend fat!”

“I didn’t call him fat.” He passes her on the second set of steps with a victorious raise of his eyebrows. “I said flabby. Skinny people can be flabby too.” 

Henley catches up at the next pass, her face a mixture of annoyance and amusement. 

“Percy is a fit, beautiful man. Do you honestly think you can do better?”

They each slow as they round the third floor, Daniel taking a single deep breath and clutching harder to his card. He faces Henley with a decisive nod. 

“Honestly, yes. If I wanted to, which I don’t. So, stop shoving your horny assistants up my ass. They’re not my type.”

Henley joins Daniel at his side, taking a single sip from her coffee and making a smacking sound with her lips. She climbs gracefully and yet eagerly, while Daniel takes the steps two at a time with ease.

“So, what is your type then, Danny? I’m curious. Who is this perfect man that you’re saving yourself for?” 

They arrive at the fifth floor, their destination, and follow a long and winding hallway in search of apartment number 5A. Sounds echo in this building, a mosaic of friendly banter.

“Saving myself?” He scoffs. “Maybe I’m just not looking for an easy lay, like you?” Henley punches his shoulder with her free hand. Daniel laughs, the sound ringing loudly through the barren hallways. “Or, maybe I’m just not interested in boring yes-men who have no real interest in making an impact. Challenge me. Give me a reason to follow the fucking conversation other than your dick. Be a dick. Give me shit. At least it’s interesting.”

“That sounds like a very specific person, Danny.” Henley squints at the apartment numbers. Daniel peeks around one corner and then proceeds directly down the opposite corridor. “Are you sure you’re not already in love?”

Daniel leaves her question hanging as he turns a final corner, leaving Henley behind, and comes face to face with the answer. 

A throat clears. 

The mentalist looks up from the floor, eyes wide and shifty with nerves. His body lounges lazily against the apartment door, one leg crooked over the other in a James Dean-like pose that make’s Daniel’s stomach flutter. The fedora slides to the side of his balding head and he fixes it with a hesitant hand, changing quickly and self-consciously to an upright position. 

Daniel catches his breath, lips parted in surprise. He stands still, fingers laced under the strap of the bag at his shoulder and wills the words that have somehow gotten stuck in his throat beneath that growing lump.

“Danny boy, long time no see. The, uh, the door’s locked.” Merritt rubs his mouth with one hand, then returns with a sincere shining gaze. He raises his other hand slowly, as if trying to calm a wild animal, and displays his own tarot card. “Was this you?” 

Daniel manages to shake his head. He slides his own card from within his sleeve and displays it with a crooked smile. When he speaks, his voice cracks.

“Guess someone thinks we work well together, Merritt.” 

Merritt sniffles and takes another cautious step. Daniel mirrors the movement, putting them only a few feet from each other. The air smells of mold and hangs heavy with tension. Henley calls out for Daniel, but her voice is too far away to break the spell. 

“I’ve been meaning to come to one of your shows.” Merritt thrusts his hands into his pockets, card and all. “I just didn’t know if…” 

“If you wanted to see me?” Daniel finishes. He flushes at the edge of desperation in his words. 

Merritt shakes his head, eyes suddenly glassy. “I’ve wanted to see you every day for two years, kid. I just needed to make sure that Dev was good and gone first.” Daniel swallows. Merritt sighs. “He’s in prison, twenty to life. Mostly for trying to kill me, but I like to think that it’s the general punishment for being a fucking asshole.”

“I heard.” Daniel drops his arm to his side and plays with the hem of his jacket. “Juror number twelve...Buck Plant. Friend of mine.” 

“Uh huh, thought that might’ve been your doing.” Merritt cocks his head and raises one eyebrow. “At least I hoped.”

Daniel exhales. This revelation brings a familiar comfort and comradery that Daniel hasn’t experienced since that one week two years ago. The feeling seems to descend on Merritt too and his hesitant smile goes goofy all at once. 

“I like the hair, Dandelion. Now, how long did that take you to flat iron? Two, three hours? I’m thinking of doing something different with mine.” He gestures to his head. “Maybe a perm…or some extensions.” 

Daniel steps forward and clears his throat of that annoying lump. They are a foot apart now. 

“That’s, uh, that’s one choice. You know, some men actually look better bald. Handsome, even.” Daniel does the bold thing, playfully tipping Merritt’s hat back to the side. “Not you, but…but some men.” 

Merritt smiles in that way that seems to break his face in two. It warms Daniel from the inside out.

“Still flirting to get your way, I see. You know, it might actually work this time.” Merritt dares Daniel with eyes so gray and intense. He reaches out, brushing their hands together. “So, I hear that you’re in love.” 

Daniel’s heart races at the contact. He shrugs, biting his lip to keep his inane smile in check. 

“Well…allegedly.” 

Daniel hooks their fingers together at their thighs. He steps forward, their toes now touching, they’re so close that their breath mingles. Merritt leans in and Daniel doesn’t pull away. 

“Anyone I know?”

They share a smile, an understanding nod, and then they are kissing. It is gentle at first, a question, and then it becomes the answer when Daniel drops his bag, grips Merritt’s biceps, and pushes him back against the door. Merritt’s fingers probe Daniel’s hips, back, and ass beneath his coat before returning to his head and winding roughly through his hair. Daniel weaves desperate hands underneath Merritt’s tweed jacket and palpates his sculped chest over the silky dress shirt. His breath comes in gasps between kisses. His heart beats so hard that he fears it might break his ribs. It’s all worth it, though. It’s every fucking thing that he’s wanted for the last two years. 

When they break apart, Merritt’s face is flushed. He cradles the back of Daniel’s head, his eyes so full of love and lust that the showman can’t look away. 

A new voice intrudes. 

“Whoa, what’d I miss?” 

The lovers separate just enough to see a younger man watching them with mischievous eyes. Henley stands beside him, her mocking smile apparent. 

“What’s the story, Danny? You obviously know each other.”

Merritt stands up straight, tracing a protective arm up the showman’s neck and ruffling his hair. Daniel winces, mostly for show. 

“Merritt McKinney, mentalist.” He extends his free hand to formally meet the other two. “I just couldn’t help myself. Something about that smug smile and droopy hair touches me right in my special place.” 

Daniel meets Merritt’s playful stare with his own. The understanding is immediate. Their story, their past, belongs to them alone. It’s theirs to share, or not, and Merritt has left that decision up to him. He turns back to the other two magicians and puts on his team leader face.

“The door’s locked.” He raises his eyebrows. “Anyone bring their lock pick?” 

The youngest raises his hand. “Oh, uh, allow me.” He kneels at the knob with a dopey grin. There is a click and then the door creaks open into a dark and dreary walkway. Henley coos and follows Jack through the doorway and into the unknown, casting a quick and knowing smirk Daniel’s way. 

Merritt steps back and plucks Daniel’s bag from the floor. He holds it out to him, a silent question. The air between their bodies is electric. The warmth in the mentalist’s eyes grounds Daniel just enough to shield him from the shock. This combination is enough to convince him that entering this apartment, with this person, is the right path. 

It’s the big reveal that he never saw coming over two years ago. 

“What do you say, Atlas? You ready for another go?” 

Daniel accepts the offering with a reluctant smile and leads the way, pulling Merritt along by the hand. 

His stomach twists in anticipation.


End file.
